Survival Of The Fittest

Snuggled under a tomb of pillows and spartan blanket, Zhijuan fell into a deep slumber, interrupted by hypoglycaemia-induced hallucinations in the field of hypnogenic sleep.

(She played a game of association. Combining images until they were together, exploding into a sparkle of death.)

She turned around, her sticky clothes sticking close to her skin.

(She wasn’t entertained yet.)

She wanted to know what she could be. She swore she wasn’t stupid; she just wanted to make the friends she couldn’t. She wanted to apologize about getting mean. The bloodstains on her clothes sticking and sticking closer and closer.

(All this shit was normal now.)

((Chiara Masina continued from Our White Nightmare))

After spending a little more time in the garages, Chiara and Derek moved towards the sleeping quarters. Derek would need his injury looked at again, and they were both desperate for a warmer place to pass the time. Maybe even get some actual sleep. Plus, as Chiara thought to herself, the quarters offered plenty of spaces to hide and avoid others. It wasn’t like anyone was going to go door to door looking for people to order. At least, she hoped not.

Chiara felt another chill as they looked down the hall. Maybe it wouldn’t be the warmest place, but it was better than being surrounded solely by metal.

Chiara looked to Derek and gestured with her head. There were plenty of rooms to choose from, but they'd have to be quiet as they made their selection.

The sleeping quarters were a risk, but one he considered worth taking for the moment.

((Derek Caldwell continued from Our White Nightmare))

The best places to avoid people were the ones no one wanted to stay at. The cold ones. But in order to not turn into popsickles, they needed better protection. A few bedsheets could go a long way in that regard. Or maybe a pillow.

Apart from that, his hand was itching again, especially the part with his ringfinger hanging on. The time for an impromptu amputation was approaching. Derek knew next to nothing about medicine, but keeping a lump of dead meat and bones connected couldn't be good in any way, shape or form.

The girl directed him towards the doors to the left. He took this as an invitation to pick one.

The door closest to the stairs was the obvious choice. The second door closest to the stairs was the obvious choice for smart people. Therefore, Derek approached the third.

Finally, his nodachi proved useful. He might have trouble holding it with three of his fingers gone, but he could still use it to push open the door from afar.

Having only leaned on the frame, the door swung open.

The noise awakened Zhijuan from her slumbered. Her dreams of Puyo Puyo Tetris 2 were dashed into shattered broken pieces of pain and dizziness. She looked around, peeking from her shelter, then hid back down inside of her cocoon. Like a worm, she wriggled a bit inside, ignoring the world for a little bit more. Just like when her mother would wake her up in the morning, and she would claim to be awake, only to sleep for five minutes.

(In all honesty, she could sleep for another 30 minutes.)

Her throat was still all-squeezed up from vomiting, and the smell, while it didn't get through her little home, did make its way through her mind. Even if she was smelling nothing from her nose being snotted up, she still felt the imaginary waves of vomit and bile.

(Thinking about it made her dizzy.)

"W-who is it?" She asked, in her pillow fort.

Chiara waited patiently as Derek chose a door. She winced a bit when the door swung open. It was louder than she expected, and she could feel the sound reverberate down the hall. People would definitely know they were there if they were nearby. She gritted her teeth as she waited for a response from the void.

A response came. Apparently, they had picked a room with someone inside. Chiara didn't recognize the voice, but she immediately felt concerned. It could be a scared person or a person about to make good on a threat.

Chiara looked at Derek. With one hand, she raised a finger to her mouth. With the other, she slowly moved towards the pocket with her gun.

Seeing the girl reach for her gun, Derek shook hos head and formed the words "too loud" with his lips.

Then he dared a peek inside the room.

A bundle of bedsheets and pillows had been crammed under the bed. For a moment, the bundle moved a bit.

Derek took a moment to articulate a response.

"We are just... two people looking for shelter and some useful stuff to take. If you don't want us to enter, I can just close the door and we take another room."

No reason to socialize in this place. Just like with Lara, it was best to avoid others for the time being.

"Ignore me then. Take whatever you need."

There was a trail of blood leading toward the pillow fort. It was dry, and it looked suspiciously smudged, like someone had tried to wipe it, and gave up.

(Zhijuan tried really hard. It feels like all the effort of body had been dragged out forcefully through her nose, and she was left just a husk of what she used to be. She tried to think about it, and it only made her thoughts harder to reach. Thinking wasn't really her thing in the first place, when she tried it only revolved about her and her alone. In this situation, she just wanted to put a wall between herself and others. A measure of physical, but really emotional, defense.)

(If someone asked, Zhijuan wasn't here.)

"Just don't take my stuff. Please."

There was a bag on the top of the bed.

Chiara waited as Derek peered in the room. He began to speak to someone inside. Chiara peered in and saw a figure hiding in the blankets. She cocked her head a bit at the sight. Was the girl trying to protect herself or make it look like she wasn't there? She wasn't sure, but it sounded like the girl inside wasn't doing too hot.

The girl inside said they could go inside as long as they didn't take her stuff. Chiara looked over and noticed the girl's bag on her bed. It felt too much like a trap. Go for the bag and the girl whips out a machine gun. That sort of thing.

Chiara looked back at Derek then the girl. She let out a bit of a sigh, then slowly stepped inside.

She moved slightly inside, crouched down to her knees, and tried to look at the girl in the sheets.

"...want to talk?" she quietly asked.

Truth be told, Derek would have prefered it if the girl told them to leave. It was unlikely that this specific room had anything they couldn't also find in another one. Except for the scared inhabitant who seemed like she needed a hug really badly.

His companion seemingly agreed, as she went to the bed and spoke something into the pillows. Derek decided to give them some space, but kept an eye open.

Apart from the bed, there also was a desk with some drawers. Opening the first one, Derek found nothing. No objects, but also no dirt, as if someone had removed the contents not too long ago.

Did they sweep this place clean? What did they remove, then?

As the boy searched the room, Zhijuan tried her best to focus ber attention on the girl speaking to her. Normally, Zhijuan would try her best to recognize the face, but here, she only drew blanks.

(Everything was blurry. It was like Zhijuan needed glasses.)

She took a soft breath, her hand still wrapped around her knife. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to be talked to. Yet, her lips moved.

“I’m sick.”

(It wasn’t to see that.)

“I want to go home.”

Chiara continued to stare at the girl as Derek began to search the room. The girl didn't seem to be doing so well. She said she was sick and that she wanted to go home. Chiara nodded. They all wanted to go home, and it was clear this girl was feeling the homesickness harder than the rest of them.

Chiara moved closer to the girl. She glanced at the knife in the girl's hand, then followed her gaze along the trail of blood leading to her. Chiara paused, then looked over to the girl.

"...do you need medicine?" she quietly asked.

It appeared whoever had removed anything useful had done an excellent job.

Since his companion seemed unwilling to speak more than necessary, Derek had hoped to find writing utensils. But all he found were a few places with fewer dust than others, hinting that something had been taken out of the drawers lately. He figured that the terrorists saw communication as a possibility of rebellion or something. Or maybe they wanted to keep the students from distracting themselves.

Finishing his search, Derek turned to the two girls, one of which was still safely under the bed.

Upon paying closer attention, the picture of the girl sandwiched in pillows and bedsheets was familiar. The scene reminded him of that one night years ago when a thunderstorm hit their neighbourhood. Abel had been scared out of his mind, hiding in his closet with his favorite (and only) teddy bear. Their parents hadn't cared, so Derek was the one to spend the night in Abel's room, armed with a basebal bat, reassuring his brother that any monster coming for him would deeply regret it. It had been a long night, but eventually both of them had gotten some sleep out of it.

But on this island, the monsters were all too real.

(Medicine would be nice.)

(But she wasn't sure if there was any access to it on the island.)

(She doubted they had something for an esophageal tear.)

"Uhuh," she replied. Zhijuan coughed painfully. Her throat felt like it was tearing again. Her body moved on its own, trying push itself off the ground. She only met the ground again when her arm failed to keep her steady. She took a stiffed breath through her teeth, coughed again, and then closed her eyes. It felt like she tried hard enough. It felt like it was enough.

Chiara watched as the girl began to cough. She quickly glanced around the room to see where Derek was, then back to the girl. The girl really didn't look so good.

Chiara pulled her bag over and reached inside. She pulled one of her unopened waters out and took the cap off.

"Here," she quietly said, holding the bottle to the girl's mouth.

It wasn't likely to help. But then again, what else could Chiara do right now?

Water enters her mouth and splashes her face softly. She tries to swallow; but the water frothed and bubbled.

(By all mean, Zhijuan was once again out of it.)

There was a snoring noise despite her being wide awake, and she gargled a bit. Her body flexed then stopped.